Lorenzo stood alone in the wreckage of the attack, the acrid scent of burnt wood and spilled gasoline still thick in the air. His sharp eyes scanned the ruined storefront, heart hammering—not just with rage but with something far darker. This was a message, no doubt. Not just to him but to everyone who dared stand in the way of the power playing out in the shadows of the city.
He clenched his fists until the nails bit into his palms. The betrayal ran deeper than he thought. Deeper than even Celeste had let on. Every alliance, every whispered deal — tainted.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. A text from an unknown number.
Tonight, at the old church. Come alone.
No signature. No explanation. Just the cold certainty of a trap.
He hesitated — but the fire inside him wouldn’t let him back
